


To My Friend

by Ichigo777



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ichigo777/pseuds/Ichigo777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A careless Death Eater loses a precious two-way journal that Voldemort intends to use to plot the downfall of the Ministry from within. This special book has been designed to pass all Ministry and Auror checks and go undetected within, allowing Voldemort access to information that is unable to leave the Ministry via word or mouth or by writing. When his incompetent servants can't find or retrieve the missing book, Voldemort decides to do it himself by manipulating the new owner. However, he finds the new owner is anything but what he expected and an unexpected friendship begins to grow between the two writers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: A lucky chance

**Author's Note:**

> About this special book that gets lost - way I figure it is there are certain departments in the Ministry where they are enchantments or oaths that prevent a person who works in the department from telling anyone else any information once they leave the Ministry; so they can talk about it among the other members of their group at work but once they leave there's no way to exchange the information. As such, it's high ranking information of extreme importance. Obviously Voldemort would want this info. The way he tries to get around this 'precaution' is via this journal which he's made so that no one will think it's anything special and it'll just slip through. Then while his spy is working there, they can write everything in it which gets automatically copied to the book Voldemort has. Since the actual book that's being written in is still in the Ministry, Voldemort gets the info without anyone knowing the oath/spell has been broken until it's too late.
> 
> This story is different from my others. I Generally write long winded pieces with page or two page chapters and tons of detail - this is my attempt at a shorter piece. XD Taya is my OC btw.
> 
> Oh:  
> Bold Text - Taya's writing entries  
> Italic Text - Voldemort's writing entries.

Cursing the uselessness of his followers, he decided that there was only one course of action: discover who had the other journal and then retrieve it. It was bound to be a bothersome task and a waste of his time. Ordinarily, it would have been assigned to someone else. However after the 'mishap' of misplacing the first book, he wasn't keen on risking the second to another moron. It had taken months to do the proper enchantments on the books and many expensive potion ingredients as well: it would be more than a bother to replace the books and the thought that someone else was using it didn’t sit well with him either. Opening his copy, he flipped to the first open page and was surprised to see writing there already.

 

**I hate my family. I hate this prison they call our home. I hate that I am forced to be something I'm not. I don't want to be cooped up like a bird any longer.**

**I want to fly freely.**

 

A slight smirk formed upon his lips. A person in this state of mind could be easily manipulated - maybe this would be easier than he thought. Some kind words and understanding, a little manipulation, and then the book would be as good as his. Picking up a quill with a smile, he left a little space below the other writer's lament before writing his own question.

 

_Why?_

 

For a few minutes there was nothing and he cursed at the thought that the other person, whoever it was, had walked away. His patience was running out quickly and just as he was about to slam the book shut, the graceful script started to appear.

 

**Because they force me to be what I do not wish to be and consider nothing else.**

**Because they are unreasonable and cannot accept my decisions or myself.**

**Because they do not care for me nor do they love me.**

**Because of my "family", I am always alone.**

 

He read the reply a few times, mulling over what was 'best' to say to get this person to trust him. Finally, he decided he needed more information and wrote his reply.

 

_Tell me more._

 

The answer came almost immediately this time.

 

**My name is Taya.**

**I "live" with my mother and father in this small house - if you can call what I endure to live. I have a room all to myself, but it is barren. I like to read, to learn new spells, but I must do so in secret or in the dead of night - my parents do not appreciate me learning anything other than the spells they approve for me.**

**My wand is in my father's possession and the only time I may use it is under supervision with chosen spells. I am not allowed to learn freely or the way I wish to.**

**My parents prevent me from leaning anything they believe is "dark magic", which isn't just dark magic spells but all spells that can cause any form of harm - be they dark or grey. They are afraid it will corrupt me, turn me to the "dark side" - they are many years too late to stop that.**

**Our whole town is full of people like them - people who hate any type of magic that isn't light. Everyone here thinks I'm the problem; everyone here always looks at me like I'm garbage. They all hate me; they all wish I wasn't here, making 'trouble' in their perfect little world.**

**I have to listen to them talk about the escapades of the "marvelous" light wizards over dinner and how they're protecting us - I keep my head down so I don't break into laughter and receive punishment. Whenever they rant and rave over a dark attack or a raid by the Death Eaters or some 'horrible' dark wizard being cleared of all charges or earning a position of power, I silently cheer - I want the dark to win.**

**If the light were to prevail, my world would continue to be a living hell.**

**If the dark wins, I will at last be free to be myself, to do what I chose to do, and to become who I want to be.**

 

The smirk became more pronounced. This was going to be easy. He looked back at the journal to discover more writing had been added.

 

**Who are you?**

 

He paused, unsure of just what to write. After a moment, he decided on something simple.

 

_Someone who is not as blinded as those whom you call “Family”._

_Someone whose mind is open to new possibilities and to change._

_Someone who is dark._

_You may call me M._

 

Again, a response was written almost immediately.

 

**I want to learn more magic.**

**Will you help me, M?**

 

He started to chuckle softly. It was all too easy.

 

_Of course, my dear Taya._


	2. Chapter 2: And a willing student

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold Text - Taya's writing entries  
> Italic Text - Voldemort's writing entries.

He had not intended to teach her much. But that girl, Taya he chided himself, had asked every other day for another spell after recounting her efforts with the previous one. Her entries were more upbeat. He had started her with basic spells, mainly first year things.

 

He had only given her the incantations and wand movements, not the effects (although for certain spells he had included warnings such as 'to use only outside'). By not giving her the effects of the spell, he could tell by the replies she would write back to him each night if she had actually done the spells or not.

 

And she was doing the spells. The girl, Taya, had good results. He had neglected to ask her age but based on her progress he ball parked it around 8 or 9. The joy in her writing as she wrote back on her successes had the oddest effect on him: it made him want to teach her more.

 

After a spell lesson on a hex, she had written to him:

 

**That spell was awesome: it actually was able to work on him even though I was inside and he wasn't!**

 

And after a particularly nasty nightmare-inducing one, it had been:

 

**I like the way that spell felt: it was comforting. Are there more like that?**

 

When he had then given her one he had made himself, she had responded with:

 

**You designed this spell yourself, M?! You have to be a genius! I wish I could do that too...**

 

And just recently it had been:

 

**Please give me a harder one - I want to push myself!**

 

They had spoken on other things too, besides spells. While he hadn't been so forthcoming with her about himself (he had slipped once and told her the full name Marvolo instead of M), Taya had written about herself to him a lot. She had told him more about her 'disgusting little village' and the people who lived there. She has talked in length about her parents, specifically on her father and how she hated him most. With some prodding, he had gotten her to tell him about some of the 'punishments' she'd received: what he had read has made his blood boil.

 

She had also told him about the other things she liked: a small collection of dolls that she's had since she was a little girl that she adored and a small paint set with 6 basic colors. She had drawn a picture for him in the journal; he had to admit she had some art skills.

 

He was starting to actually like this girl - and that was a problem. His goal was the journal, he kept telling himself - he couldn't get too personally involved. But he would have been lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to her next reply.

 

He found himself wondering if this is the feeling he would have had if he had succeeded in gaining that Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position all those years ago.


	3. Chapter 3: Then something begins to stir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold Text - Taya's writing entries  
> Italic Text - Voldemort's writing entries.

The girl, Taya he reminded himself, hadn't written back to him since the last time which had been almost eight days ago. She was normally very prompt - with all of his other spells she had writing him back either the same night or the next night with her results. But now there was silence. He was starting to get a bit annoyed with the lack of reply. Flipping the journal open, he penned a quick note.

 

_What's wrong, my dear?_

_Are my lessons too difficult for you or have you changed your mind already?_

 

The journal sat with no response written. After ten minutes, he slammed it shut with a snarl and went back to the pile of paperwork upon his desk. A little over an hour later, the journal suddenly flashed, indicating a response had at last been written. Wordlessly, he summoned it to his desk and flipped it open. A single sentence was written.

 

**He caught me.**

Disappointed and slightly confused by the response, he penned an obvious statement back.

 

 

There was a bit of a pause and then the writing appeared bit by bit.

 

  **My father came home early last week. I didn't hear him come in to the house - I was concentrating. Mother was out doing shopping so I had 'free time'. I thought I would be alone. He caught me practicing the core spell you gave me.**

**He wasn't happy.**

**I got a lecture (screamed at me, of course) from him, then another from mother when she returned, and then they brought in this revered Light Wizard from town and he screamed at me too and called me "corrupted" among other nasty things.**

**My parents expressed their disappointment in me to him - they had to apologize to him for my "behavior". I was punished formally by him. When he left, things got worse.**

**Mother searched my room and found a spell book I'd hidden: she tore it to shreds and then burned it. She also took away my dolls and the paints. Luckily, she didn't find this - I made sure I had hidden it in the best spot I could find.**

**Then father inflicted his punishment on me.**

**I'll spare you the details: you can probably already guess what he did based upon what I told you last time, M.**

 

He frowned to himself. Yes, he remembered that conversation from a while back all too well when he had finally gotten her to explain her punishments to him. He had almost burned the study down in his rage, not that he had told her that. And now that man had probably done that again to her....

 

Shaking his head, he turned back to her writing: he couldn't afford to get angry again.

 

**Everything hurts.**

**It hurts when I sleep.**

**It hurts when I stand.**

**It hurts when I breathe.**

**I was confined to the "bad behavior closet" for three or so days - I was only let out for two bathroom breaks a day and two meager meals. I lost track of how much time had passed... Mother stopped by often and stood outside to yell at me some more.**

**Today is the first day I was allowed back to my room. I waited to make sure they were really gone before I took this out - it's important to you. I wouldn't want mother to destroy it.**

**I hate them.**

**I hate them so much!**

 

He read her words with rising anger, anger he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't like he CARED about the brat, he just wanted the journal. So why was he angry...

 

He realized as he started to write that he did care for her. Writing to her and sharing personal information had intensified the feeling quickly. He was seeing parts of himself in her, wheatear he wanted to or not.

 

_Then you should leave, yes?_

_I could always come and get you._

_Your "home" - what kinds of wards and charms protect it?_

_Is there a barrier or a Fidelius Charm in place that would prevent my entry?_

 

He wasn't sure how his mission had gone from retrieving the journal to doing that and rescuing this girl who was growing on him, despite his intentions. Her response came after a few moments.

 

**There is just a simple ward around the entire town.**

**Everyone believes they are safe here.**

**We are quite isolated from other towns - they believe no one quite knows our location. And, if found, they believe there are more than enough of them to fend off an intruder.**

**What will happen if you come?**

**Will you hurt them?**

**What about the town?**

 

He should lie, he told himself. He looked back intending to write a fabulous story about how everything would be okay only to see a new line of writing had appeared.

 

I am not a baby. I am not naïve to the ways of the Dark. There is no need to be "gentle" with your words - I have never had it thus far...

 

**Please don't lie to me, Marvolo.**

**Tell me the truth.**

 

For some odd reason he found himself writing the truth after reading that.

 

_I will come and take you away with me._

_You will have no more foolish restrictions - you will be free to learn what you please._

_You will come and stay with a Dark Family if you wish - a family who will treat you as one of their own and teach you magic the proper way. They will help you learn any spell you wish, let you read any book you wish, and you need not worry what anyone will say. If someone does say something about you, you shall be defended by them or me - no one shall be allowed to speak badly of you anyone._

_Or you may stay with me, if that is what you wish. If you would like, I will teach you myself._

_I shall ensure no one will mistreat you again._

_You will be safe, you will be wanted._

_You will be free._

_I will bring others from the Dark with me._

_We will raze the town to the ground._

_Those who do not surrender shall die._

_I will not allow another child to suffer the treatment you have suffered._

_They cannot be allowed to continue this "practice" of only white magic, for the "good" of all, or so they claim._

_I will personally take care of your "family"._

_Those whom have hurt you and mistreated you shall suffer as they should._

_If there is a specific punishment you wish to inflict upon them, I shall see it done._

_Only then shall they die._

_I will not permit them to hurt you ever again._

 

He shouldn't have written that, he told himself. There was no way she would agree. There was a long pause and he was sure she had shut the book and walked away horrified or worse turned the journal in. But the unlikely response came at last.

 

**Let me think on it.**

**I really want to say "Yes" - what you describe my new "life" being like sounds like a wonderful dream.**

**I would love that. And while a family seems nice, I think I would prefer you over them. You understand me: that's all I've wanted my whole life - someone who gets me; someone who understands me: the real me!**

**But, for some odd reason, when I think about giving all these people up you, I feel guilty.**

**Maybe it's just that I'm exhausted and not thinking clearly. Please give me a day or so to think on your offer.**

**I promise a response either way. No matter what, I still would love to write to you.**

**...**

**Thank you - for being honest with me.**

**...**

**You're the only person I can consider my "friend".**

**Even though it's probably been inconvenient to you, I'm happy your journal wound up with me.**

**You're truly the best thing that's ever happened to me, Marvolo. Thank you so much.**

 

He felt....odd reading her reply. There was some strange feeling welling up deep inside him, a feeling he didn't remember ever having before (or possibly it had been so long ago he had forgotten). This girl, Taya, she made him feel....odd...

 

He didn't quite know how to feel about that situation.


	4. Chapter 4: A change for the worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold Text - Taya's writing entries  
> Italic Text - Voldemort's writing entries

The journal on the desk flashed brightly and he looked at it in slight confusion: he hadn't expected a reply so soon. Opening up the journal to the page, he watched as writing slowly formed, far slower than usual. The writing itself was not the immaculate script he was used to seeing and there were blotches surrounding the writing. Once he read the message, the reason for both was obvious.

**I've had enough of their abuse.**

**Make them pay - spare no one.**

**143 Cedering Terrace**

**The Village of Ely in Knowrt Forest**

**Cambridgeshire**

**Population - 126 + me.**

**I should have said yes earlier....**

**I want to see you.**

**I hope I'm alive to see you, Marvolo.**

 

He wasted no time. The robes were on in a flash and he was off in a hurry through the floo, journal clutched in hand, to Malfoy Manor. He would find Lucius, summon the Death Eaters, and within ten minutes the village of Ely would be burning and the residents would be dying or he wasn't the Dark Lord Voldemort.

 

And hopefully, he would find the girl named Taya still alive.


	5. Chapter 5: Begets rage and wrath

Before flooing out, he grabbed a magical map – the men always performed better with a visual guide. Enhancing it to show the village, he formed a plan in his mind as he stepped into the floo. Lucius didn’t look too surprised when he suddenly appeared in the man’s parlor having just come through the floo unannounced and unexpected. But then again, Lucius was not one of his top Death Eaters for nothing. The blonde was quickly at his feet and then kneeling before him, waiting for orders. It was a thing or normality, but he had no time for that today – no time at all.

 

Without a word he grabbed Lucius’s arm with his right arm, wrenching the limb and its owner up to his level. A look of shock momentarily appeared on Lucius’s face – but he had no time to explain. Dragging the man into the nearby ballroom, he slammed the door behind them then turned back to the man before him. The look of shock was still there - a look which soon turned to pain as he pressed the mark on his commander’s arm with the tip of his wand, flaring it to life and calling the others, no matter where they were, to him here.

 

As the first pop of apparating wizards came, most likely Avery, he released Lucius’s arm.

 

“Prepare.” He ordered. As Lucius bowed and headed for the door, he added a second. “And have your wife remain on standby.”

 

That paused Lucius momentarily: Narcissa was almost never involved unless there was need for a healer. Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the frozen blond and he quickly departed.

 

In the room now multiple Death Eaters had appeared and more were coming each moment. He beckoned over Avery, Rookwood, and McNair to him. All three bowed.

 

“Avery, Rookwood: organize four squads. McNair, you shall take the fourth since Bellatrix is on another mission. Get them prepared: as soon as Lucius returns we’re setting out immediately.”

 

The three men bowed. Avery and Rookwood went about the task of dividing the Death Eaters into four equal groups, each to be led by a commander. Lucius returned moments into the organization and quickly joined in. In less than five minutes, all the gathered had been divided into ear silent groups with Lucius, Avery, Rookwood, and McNair at the leads. He surveyed his quiet troops them spoke.

 

“We are heading for the village of Ely: it is a disgusting little light settlement in the Knowrt Forest where they practice and preach all light magic and only light magic. There are 126 occupants – most of them trained light wizards who will no doubt fight back. We will be dealing with all of them tonight.”

 

He paused for a moment to expand the map he had brought.

 

“McNair and Lucius – have your groups take the North sections. Avery – the southwest. Rookwood will have the southeast. You are to kill any adults who fight against you – if they can be stunned that is preferable. Gather up the children and restrain them: they shall be dealt with later.”

 

With that, he called the four commanders to him. Once all four had gathered, eh continued in a lower tone. “I have personal business with the occupants of 143 Cedering Terrace: that is on the border between the two southern sections. Should I be delayed, you are to stun the occupants, nothing more. There should be three, possibly more if there are guests. Understood?”

 

When all four nodded, he continued. “There is only a simple ward around the whole village. After I bring it down, bring your squads to your respective areas and begin the raid. I will give further instructions as necessary.”

 

With a wave, he dismissed the four back to their squads. With a loud voice, a voice he hoped didn’t show any of his nervousness or trepidation, he issued the command.

 

“Let us be off!”

 

With a swirl of black fabric, he apparated away towards the Knowrt forest, towards Ely, towards Taya.


	6. Chapter 6: As what once was begins to burn

  
He landed in the middle of the woods among tall pines and evergreens. It was bitterly cold and dark. To the normal eye it looked just like a normal forest, but he could feel the magic humming in the air. He could feel the ward, even if he couldn’t quite see it yet. As he headed forwards, the cracks of the others apparating behind him grew loud and then went into silence as the last arrived. He paid them no mind: he had reached the ward.

He scoffed; it was a ridiculously simple ward – so weak and pathetic! They used THIS for protection? How preposterous! With a sneer and a slash of his wand, the ward fell with a crack and the raid began. The squads, led by the four commanders, charged forwards into the unsuspecting village. He saw panic on some occupants’ faces and then heard the screams as the first curses and stunners rang out. He waited until all the men were inside before erecting his own barrier around the village: now only those with the dark mark (or being led by those with the dark mark) could enter or leave the village. Satisfied, he headed off towards Cederling Terrance, blasting those who were foolish enough to get in his way.

About a block away, he came across a trio of his lower circle members trying to hold their own and losing badly against a single wizard. He recognized the barmy old man as a former auror – one Mactavuius Olfactor. Olfactor had been a rather prominent spokesman against any form of dark magic being taught in his days as an auror; he had been forced to retired after a rather nasty incident involving the death of a young child. Olfactor had been on his hit list for years: so this is where the old man had been hiding.

In a florish, he joined the fight. Olfactor seemed surprised but not shaken at his arrival: his own three members quickly bowed out of the fight and left their lord to work. Olfactor was old and slow, too slow to block all the curses he could send Olfactor’s way. It was only a matter of time.

After three or so minutes of combat, during which Olfactor had received a blasting hex, a cutting curse, and a glancing blow from a bone blaster the old man’s shield finally crumbled. Olfactor could no longer hold it: the man was too old for this kind of strenuous combat. Voldemort easily bound him in a multitude of binds and stuns before instruction two of the trio to take the man to the dungeons to be dealt with later.

Feeling better now that he had let some aggression out, he hurried on his was to Cederling.


	7. Chapter 7: And from those flames new hope ignites

When he arrived at 143, the door was already open. He cursed inwardly: he had hoped to be the first one here, but that Auror had delayed him. He could only hope his followers had been smart enough to follow his orders and stun only. As he entered what he assumed was the parlor, he saw Avery standing over a woman. Noting his presence, Avery bowed.

 

"There is one over here, My Lord, and two upstairs with Rookwood. All are subdued."

 

Avery's report was short and concise; just the way he liked them to be. He quickly looked at the woman at Avery's feet, then at the walls. The woman and a man occupied most of the portraits. This woman was not Taya: it was her mother, most likely. With a quick nod to Avery, he headed upstairs.

 

Rookwood was at the top of the stairs, wand still trained on a figure lying on the floor. It was a fat man - Taya's father most likely given the pictures. Rookwood too bowed when he approached but kept his eyes on the prisoner.

 

"The third?" he asked, hoping he sounded indifferent.

 

Rookwood motioned to the end door in the hall. "No need to stun that one."

 

Without a word, he brushed back Rookwood and headed down the hall, fearing the worst. The door hadn't been forced open - there was still a key in the lock and, judging by the blood trail he'd just walked over and the bloody handprint on the door, it had been the father who had opened it. Quickly he stepped inside.

 

It didn't take a second glance to spot her; she was lying in the center of the room on her side, unmoving. Quickly he went to her and with a sweep of his wand, checked her condition.

 

Unconscious and badly injured but still alive; he let out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. Gently, he rolled her from her side to her back and barely held back the gasp. She was young, far younger than he'd guessed. He'd ball parked her age at 8 or 9, but this girl, Taya, was clearly no more than 5 and very obviously small for her age. Her pale face and arms was marred with large bruises, her uneven, tangled, blonde hair matted with blood in some areas. There was obviously a broken leg, possibly a broken wrist too. Her clothes were dirty and torn. And, in the hand of the arm she'd been laying on, was his journal clutched tightly.

 

He didn't try to pry it from her; instead he gently laid her back on the floor. Returning to the hallway, he ordered Rookwood to move the man downstairs into the parlor with the woman and to watch them both. He called for Avery, who arrived at the bottom of the stairs within moments, and sent him to find Lucius where he no doubt still was up the street and have him send his wife back to top floor of the house. Avery looked momentarily confused but bowed and headed out without asking anything.

 

Once he was sure Avery had left, he headed back to Taya's side. While he was a powerful wizard he didn't have as much experience in healing as he'd like: of that skill the master was Narcissa Malfoy. And it was her he needed to heal Taya.

 

As he stood there watching her, she shifted slightly and moaned quietly in obvious pain. The hard floor obviously wasn't helping and what had been her bed had been destroyed. Quickly he transfigured a broken chair into a large, lush pillow big enough to lay her whole body upon. He sank to his knees behind her, so he was still facing the door, and gently picked the girl up to lay her carefully on the pillow. As he pushed some of her hair out of her face, he questioned why he cared so much about this girl.

 

Was it because he saw himself in her- had seen parts of his childhood that he didn't want to relive? Or was it her potential that attracted him? She picked up on his spells so easily and with her age, that was a sign of strong magic. She'd be powerful, if taught right.

 

He didn't have too long to think; soon there was the sound of heels on the floor and then the stairs. Narcissa arrived in a rush and then froze in the doorway at the sight of him kneeling besides the young girl lying on the pillow.

 

He looked up at the Malfoy matriarch. "Heal her." he ordered.

 

It was all the instruction Narcissa needed. She was on the floor besides him in a moment, running her wand over the girl. From the look on her face, he knew she wanted to ask questions (and his experience knew what those questions would be) but her years of pureblood training meant she knew to keep her mouth shut.

 

"Heal her best you can - use magic or potions. When she's conscious, bring her downstairs." he intoned.

 

Narcissa's eyes rose for only a moment and she nodded briefly before retuning back to her task. Seeing that, he rose - there were two prisoners downstairs who were in for some torture. As he reached the door he paused and turned back.

 

"And Narcissa." He waited until the blonde met his eyes. "She is allowed to keep the journal. See to it that she brings it with her."  


This time, she replied verbally. "Yes, my Lord."

 

"Her name is Taya." was all he said as he headed downstairs, leaving Taya to the care of the skilled healer.


	8. Chapter 8: What once was ceases to be

He headed down the stairs. Ensuring Rookwood was still watching the two occupants of a parlor, he stepped outside. He wasn’t surprised to see Lucius waiting for him. The blonde bowed and waited for orders.

“Search the village: find and kill all the remaining adults. If you can extract any information from them do so. No adults are to be left alive. Assess the children: any who can be turned may be left alive: the rest are to be killed as well. Organize the others and spread the word: when the job is done, report back to me here. I have unfinished business inside.”

Lucius nodded. “It shall be done, my Lord.”

With a wave off, Lucius headed off into the village. He didn't give it a second thought; Lucius would see that the others in the village were dealt with per his orders. As for himself; there were a certain pair of imbeciles he needed to torture for a while to quell the anger threaten to boil over.

Time seemed to just fly by as curse after curse left his wand. As his wand worked, his mind wandered back to Taya and to the one pressing question: had he been in time after all?


	9. Chapter 9: As revelations turn

There was a knock on the parlor’s door, a quiet knock. He lifted the curse from the sobbing woman in front of him, but did not face away. Instead he only let his eyes wander a little to the door.

 

"Enter."

 

The command was heeded within seconds. The parlor door swung open and in walked Narcissa and behind her Taya. The Malfoy matriarch gently ushered Taya into the room with a smile, then bowed to him and left shutting the door behind her. Taya's eyes, which he could now see were emerald green, were wide and sparkling as she slowly took in the slights of the parlor. She stared at Rookwood, still masked and standing in the corner and her face broke into a smile.

 

"Death Eaters" he heard her whisper softly in awe as she continued to gaze at Rookwood.

 

Her eyes continued their journey, stopping only momentarily to see her parents on the floor - her smile turned to a sneer. Then her eyes moved away and onto him. They went wide immediately and her small hand rose to cover her now open mouth.

 

"The Dark Lord....THE Dark Lord is HERE...in MY house..." Her voice was barely a whisper but he caught every word.

 

He gave her a moment to gape in wonder before speaking. "Come here." He lazily gestured to the spot on the rug beside him with his free hand.

 

She blinked a few times, then gave a jerky nod and almost scampered to his side, eyes wide in awe. She kept a bit of distance between them (understandably of course).

 

"Have you decided?" he asked her lazily, twirling his wand around.

 

"De-decided? Decided what, my lord?" Her voice shook slightly, not as much as he'd expected through.

 

Her parents had been watching in silence, obviously still in pain and unable to do much of anything - but the comment of 'My Lord' from her lips incensed the father and he began to shout a rant of slurs and cruel words towards Taya.

 

"Silence!" he hissed, wordlessly casting the charm. He turned his head for the first time to look at her. It occurred to him that he hadn't explained yet that 'Marvolo' and he were one in the same.

 

"Have you decided upon which spells you wish me to inflict upon them as I asked earlier?" He clarified.

 

She looked at him for a moment, and then her eyes went wide with comprehension as she looked quickly down at the journal she still held and then back up at him.

 

"You're...." her voice was timid and filled with awe.

 

He actually found himself smiling at her. "Indeed."

 

Her eyes seemed to sparkle at that.


	10. Chapter 10: Fledgling dreams into fruition.

He watched as she hesitated slightly, eyes moving to the corner and then back as if unsure what to say or unwilling to say what she wanted.

 

With a gesture, he dismissed Rookwood to wait outside for him: no doubt his presence was only making Taya more nervous about this. Perhaps alone, she’d be more forthcoming.

 

And indeed she was as if it was the cure for her ailment. If he had held any doubts about Taya after first seeing her, they were quickly dispelled. After getting over that momentary shock that it had been him, the Dark Lord himself, whom she had been writing to she had practically clung to him in awe and admiration as only a young child could do. And then with her eyes sparkling brightly, she had proceeded to list off spell after spell for him to cast upon her ‘parents’.

 

Besides the normal Dark curses there were some more inventive spells he hadn’t known she was aware of mixed in (among those were several he was partial to as well). When she ran out of curses she knew, she started asking him if he knew a spell to do this or a spell that did that. He never failed to produce her desired effect which made the girl become even more awed as time passed.

 

By the end of a long hour, during which he noted that the commotion from outside the house had died and given way to silence, the people that had once been Taya’s ‘family’ (if they even deserved to be called such) had been begging for death for over 30 minutes.

 

It was here that those vibrant green eyes turned up to meet his red, uncertainty and longing flickering inside them in some odd sort of dance. He knew that look: the look of someone who wanted to ask something but didn’t know quite how. Wordlessly, he bent down to her level and, as expected, Taya took the hint and stretched herself to stand on her tip toes to be able to whisper her request into his ear.

 

“When you kill them……can I……can I hold it too?”

 

At first he had no idea what she meant at all. A quick surface scan of her thoughts through wordless Legilimency provided his answer. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to cast the Killing Curse herself; she would need him to do it for her, but still she wanted in some way to be a part of their deaths. Her creative solution was to ask him if she could hold onto his wand too as he did the deed.

 

It was an odd request to say the least. He wasn’t comfortable with anyone touching much less holding onto his wand but then again this wasn’t a typical case. This little girl showed incredible potential for one so young: potential to become as great as himself one day, if given the proper training. And, when given the choice, she had chosen him, had she not? If he refused her this request, she may start to distrust him and he might force her back to the light instead of welcoming her to the dark: it was something he couldn’t afford to do. There was only one option.

 

With a light pull, he moved Taya in front of him. The little girl barely reached his waist so he found himself crouching down a bit in order to make up the considerable distance between them. Luckily, she was also left handed, which made things a bit easier to manage. He handed her his wand, letting her marvel at it for a moment with wide eyes, before those green eyes suddenly hardened and she shifted it into the proper position in her hand. He took a moment to correct her grip before closing his own much larger hand over both hers and the wand with ease: it was only then he noticed she was trembling. With his free arm, he pushed her back into him and felt her relax, not tense up as another might have.

 

He didn’t need to ask her if she was ready: he knew she was. In under a minute, the deed was done: two corpses lay on the floor, gone forever and unable to torment her anymore. A minute passed in silence as Taya slipped her hand from under his, leaving him his wand, and walked up to the bodies and just started, wide-eyed. Finally she turned back to him.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Her voice was small and it was only two words, but the emotion behind them and the look in her eyes was all he really needed to see to know, to understand exactly how she felt. He just nodded and she smiled. The smile turned into a half yawn as she reached to cover her mouth and then rub her eyes. It was late, too late for a little girl, especially one who had almost died today.

 

Automatically, he conjured a fuzzy black cloak, which she gratefully took and wrapped around her with a smile. He led her back upstairs through a back staircase to her wreck of a room. Without having to be told, Taya gathered her paint set, a notebook, some drawings, and a rather dilapidated and stapled spell book to take with her. He shrunk them all, along with the journal she was still clutching. When he had tucked them all away in his own pocket, he turned back to her to find her half-asleep against the wall, eyes almost completely shut.

 

On instinct, he picked her up before she fell asleep and fell to the floor. Small hands gently clutched the fine silk cloak he was wearing and within a minute, Taya was asleep in his arms. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at her, and then he turned back to her barren room. The dolls, which she had written about days ago as being some of her prized possessions, were all broken, burned, and crushed upon the floor: their once fine hair was strewn across the floor, their porcelain faces cracked, and their clothing in shreds. Obviously, Taya thought them beyond repair. He hated the idea for some reason. With a wave, he conjured a small box and moved the dolls and all their pieces into the box. Only once they were all inside and the box shrunk and placed alongside Taya’s other belongings in his pocket did he leave her room behind with a sneer. There was still one thing to get.

 

Ignoring the odd look Rookwood was giving him, he headed for the china cabinet he had passed on his way into the parlor earlier. On a pedestal behind the glass was a lone wand. Taking it out, he found it was a mere training wand, a toy, and scoffed loudly. A training wand was generally only used for the first few years of a witch or wizards life to teach hand grips: it was never supposed to be used for actual spell work as the wand’s core was minimal. The thought that Taya hadn’t even been afforded a real wand made his anger rise again: the only thought that quelled it was the fact that to perform any Dark magic with this wand was a superb feat! With a sneer, he snapped the toy into small pieces and headed outside, Rookwood following behind him.

 

Lucius was waiting outside. He saw the blonde man’s blue-gray eyes flicker over to her once but no change of expression filtered across his face. Instead, he bowed and waited for orders.

 

“Burn it all.”

 

And with that order left with Lucius, he apparated away back to his manor. Taya he put in his own bed, covered by silk sheets and a comforter. Nagini was instructed that their guest was ‘not dinner’ as the snake joined the girl in bed for warmth. With Taya asleep and his journal recovered, he returned to his office and tried to get back to work. But, try as he might, the work he had begun before the raid just wasn’t getting done at all: his mid was still otherwise occupied. With a sigh, he pushed it aside and took out the box of dolls. It was time to do some real work.


End file.
